


Unexpected

by DarkAlpha67



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Banshee!Lydia, Clubbing, F/M, FBI! STILES, Fluff, Hints of Scott McCall/Malia Tate, Hints of Stydia, Hunters, Hurt and comfort, Insecure!Derek, Jealousy, Kidnapping, M/M, Married Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Mention of torture, Minor Torturing, Protective Stiles, Relationhsip Milestones, Sacrificing, Sterek relationship, Strong Friendship - Freeform, The Jungle (Teen Wolf), Trust In The Relationship, Violence, Witches, college!Stiles, hints of Sterek, strong relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-19 16:23:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9450164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkAlpha67/pseuds/DarkAlpha67
Summary: Five times Stiles proved he wasn't a walking cliche and could take care of himself and the One time someone was there for him.*My first 5+1 fic





	1. Jungle

Stiles loves The Jungle. The bass of the music almost pulses within him, increasing his heart rate, the beat moves his body without Stiles having to do much. He throws his head back, feeling the alcohol buzz and fog up his mind and what does he care?

He is nineteen and _alive_.

A warm body presses against him, and Stiles looks down to the redhead dancing.

He takes her hands, lacing their fingers together, dancing with the gorgeous strawberry blonde girl in his arms as they move together without a care in the world.

“Whoo!” Lydia screams, laughing as she jumps up and down, shaking her head, her hair flying everywhere.

Stiles laughs with her, using their laced hands to spin her around, sliding past her and then pulls her towards him.

Lydia grins back wildly, the alcohol having its effect on her too. He feels someone try to press up against him from behind, and judging by the bulge he feels pressed against his back, it’s a guy.

Shaking his head and moving away, Stiles looks over her shoulder, locking eyes with Malia where she is dancing with Kira and Scott.

He nods her over, beckoning her to come to them.

Then he looks down, cupping the side of Lydia’s face to pull her close so he can speak into her ear.

“I’m gonna get some air, okay. Dance with Malia.” He says, knowing Malia can hear him too.

Lydia grins at him and nods. When Malia slides up next to them, Stiles moves away, slithering through the mass of bodies grinding and dancing with one another.

He looks around, trying to find some corner where he can breathe for a second.

He sees Derek sitting somewhere by the bar and feels his heart stutter at the sight.

Shaking his head, Stiles dismisses the feeling.

He isn’t an idiot, after everything that happened between them, Stiles knows how Derek feels about him but the stubborn wolf still won’t pull his head out of his ass.

But that’s totally fine, Stiles’ awesome power of ignoring a problem until it goes it away is helping him through this little pinning thing he has going with Derek and besides, Stiles learned his lesson with Lydia.

He is done chasing after someone who wouldn’t give him a second of their day…

He _won’t_. He is so, _totally_ done with it.  _Done_.

Finding a nice, secluded area, Stiles leans up against the wall, feeling his lungs expand a little more, no longer compressed from the thick air on the dance floor.

He closes his eyes, letting the easy smile spread across his lips.

Then, he feels something slide up in front of him.

Opening his eyes, Stiles frowns at the guy in before him. A dark haired, dark eyed guy in a tight jeans and tank top that showcased his muscular body perfectly.

“Hey, what’s a guy like you doing all the way back here?” The guy asks.

Stiles stares at him for a second, his fogged up mind taking a little longer to clear, due to the alcohol.

“No reason, I just needed some air.” Stiles replies, narrows his eyes a little when the guy looks at him from head to toe.

“I saw you dancing out there, and I must say, you really know how to use that body of yours.”

“Thanks.” Stiles nods and grins.

Though he would prefer to be left alone, he isn’t going to be rude to the guy.

“You wanna get out of here?”

The sudden question startles Stiles and his eyes widen as he stares at the man before him, standing ever so confidently.

Stiles swallows and licks his lips, stopping immediately when the guy traces the movement with hungry eyes.

“Uh, look that’s really flattering but I’m not interested.” Stiles apologies.

The guy frowns and takes a step forward. “Oh come on, I’ll make it worth your while…”

He moves closer and Stiles backup to get away from him. He quickly realizes his mistake when he feels the hard wall press against his back.

_Shit!_

“You can’t say this wasn’t your goal while you were dancing back there.” The man continues, his breath reeking of alcohol, his hands brushing against his sides.

Stiles grimaces and looks away for a second at the smell. “My goal back there was to loosen up. Not have some guy follow me into a dark corner to feel me up.”

Stiles smacks the wondering hands away for good measure.

The guy frowns at him, taking a firm step towards him, cornering Stiles completely against the wall, grabbing at the hand Stiles used to smack his away, his fingers digging into Stiles’ wrist painfully.

“Are you saying ‘no’?” The guy growls.

Stiles clenches his jaw and glares. “Let go of me.”

It happened so quickly, Stiles barely had time to react. The guys twists his arm, spinning Stiles around and presses his face against the wall.

Stiles grunts slightly at the pain that ignites on the side of his face. He feels the guy press his entire body against his, his hot breathe sending disgusted chills down Stiles’ neck as the man leans forward to talk into his ear.

“I’m not really into playing hard to get.”

Stiles grunts, and struggles against his hold, trying to rotate his wrists out of the guy's hold. “Listen, buddy, you better let go of me right now—”

“Hey!” He hears someone shout behind him.

_Scott..._

Stiles knows exactly when the guy turns around at Scott’s voice, his hold on Stiles’ wrist slip just a bit and that’s enough for Stiles.

The younger man takes his free elbow, rams it back and feels it connect to something.

The hold on him slips and Stiles spins around to the guy holding onto the side of his head, glaring at Stiles.

Not wasting time, Stiles swings his bend up right arm, his elbow slamming against the guy’s nose with a sickening crunch.

The guy screams, drawing a few eyes to them as he falls down on the club floor, clutching his bleeding nose.

“Stiles!” He hears someone shout.

He looks up to see most of the pack, rushing toward them.

Angrily, he moves to the guy and bends down to get into his face.

“When a guy says no, he means _no_.”


	2. Taken

“Run! Run! Run!” He shouts, spinning around to push Malia along as two Omega’s charge towards them.

He hears Malia high growl and hopes and prays the others hears her.

Their feet pound against the wet forest floors, the leaves rustling. His arm hurts and his bat was lost somewhere behind them.

He’ll have to get someone to find it for him later.

After he gets away from these guys.

A growls comes out of nowhere and a werewolf jumps down in front of them.

Malia and Stiles skid to a stop, their feet slipping out from under them as they slide to the grounday, on their backs.

Stiles scrambling to Malia, moves to grab her arm but something wraps around his own arms, hauling him back.

A sharp pain behind his head is the last thing he feels before he blacks out.

                                                       ***

He wakes up to a sharp, repetitive pain on his cheek.

“Wakey, wakey.”

Stiles groans, feeling the heaviness of his head and the pain in his neck from its weight.

_Huh, that’s funny._

His eyes twitch as he tries to force them open.

There is another sharp pain as someone slaps his cheek, grabbing onto his jaw when Stiles groans, forcing his head up.

Stiles winces, and opens his eyes painfully.

He doesn’t know how long he has been out, but he does know this is the second time he has woken up to this guy's ugly face.

He tastes the metallic taste of blood run down his throat as he swallows, his swollen cheek throbbing along with his jaw.

“There you go. I thought for second you might have passed out on me.” The voice says sharply.

“Yeah, well maybe you should stop beating the shit out of me then.”

There is a sharp, white pain on the side of his jaw and Stiles’ head whip the other side at the force of the punch.

He groans loudly, as his head lolls to the side before rolling forward.

Blood drips out of his mouth but Stiles doesn’t even care.

It feels like hours since the beating started.

His shirt was taken off and his body is bruised up, small cuts scattered all over his torso, covered in sweat and blood.

The hand grips his jaw and turns his face up, forcing Stiles to look up at the man.

“This will end as soon as you tell me everything I need to know about your pack. Who is who? Who runs what and who hurts who?”

Stiles pulls back the blood in his mouth, accumulating as much as he could before spitting it out cover the asshole's face.

The werewolf growls, moving away a bit and backhanding Stiles.

“Argh!” Stiles grunts. “You- You can punch me and beat me all you want but I’m not telling you anything.”

The man pauses.

“I think I’ll just leave you here, give you some time to think.” He muses, almost to himself.

Glaring through his slightly swollen eyes, Stiles says nothing.

The door of the basement slamming shut echoes through the damp walls of the basement as the werewolf walks out, leaving Stiles alone.

He holds his breath for a second, before exhaling slowly through his nose.

He listens, trying to see if he can hear his pack outside, maybe they had come for him.

_“Your pack won’t find you. You see, we spread your scent all around the area. You’ll be dead before they even find the right trail…”_

“Like hell.” Stiles groans.

He slowly forces his head up, looking around the basement and assesses his situation.

He is tied to a chair, his legs bound by rope to each chair leg. His arms are forced back and handcuffed together. Stiles closes his eyes, and takes in a calm deep breath, ignoring his ribs as they throb when his lungs expand.

“Come on, Stiles. This isn’t your first time tied up. Think. Think. Think.”

_Wait a second…_

His eyes flash open as a thought comes to mind.

Focusing, he twists his confided wrists at an awkward angle, feeling the small metal attached to his sleeve. He runs his finger over the small curve and lets out a small sigh.

_Thank you, over-cautious mind._

He twists his wrist further and curls the tips of his fingers around the small metal clipping and pulls it out from his sleeve.

Stiles sighs in relief, a feeling of pure satisfaction growing as he fiddles around with it, twisting it from its position, uncurling the paper clip.

_Being the son of a sheriff is paying off._

Just as he hear feels the tight grip of the cuff on his left wrist loosen, he hears the long, piercing howl break through the basement silent, stiff air.

He sighs, praying it’s Scott as he hurriedly pulls his hand free.

He bits back a scream as he bends down, trying to work the knot of the rope as fast as he can.

His fingers slip every now and then but Stiles pushes on, pulling and tugging until both his legs are free.

The basement door bursts open and Stiles, spirngs up, gripping the back of chair, ready to pick it up and use it as a weapon.

“Stiles!”

He sighs, his shaky hands letting go of the chair at the sound of the worried voice.

He moves to take a step but the pain registers through his entire body, his knees buckles out from under him.

“Took you long enough, Sourwolf.” He mutters as he stumbles forward.

Arms wrap around him and he catches the sweet strawberry scent.

He clutches onto Lydia, cupping the back of her head as she hugs him.

“You stupid, idiot.” She mutters into his shoulder.

He scoffs and lets her hold him a little longer, looking over her shoulder to Derek who stands by the door glaring at him.

Stiles gives him a small smile, hoping to show his relief in seeing Derek but the Beta just walks over to them, not returning the smile at all.

Lydia steps back, keeping Stiles' arm around her shoulders as Derek moves to help her on his other side.

“Maybe we should just start wearing trackers. That way it doesn’t take hours to find the human while he is being tortured.” Stiles grumbles as they limp towards the door.


	3. Hunter

“So are you going to tell him?”

Stiles look up from his computer over to Lydia as she lays on her stomach, her back legs lifted up and crossed up the ankles, books and a notepad in front of her.

He suddenly has flashbacks to her laying there while they exchanged small pecks, smiling all the way.

“Tell who, what?”

Lydia cocks her head to the side, puckering her lips up. “Stiles, need I remind you that we have been friends for five years, and during one of those years, I was your girlfriend… You can’t lie to me.”

Stiles rolls his eyes, turning around to print the information he found on their latest case, standing up to fetch the paper to pin it over to his investigation board.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Lyds.” He says, keeping his eyes on the board before him.

“Okay, if you want to play games, I will play along. Stiles, when are you going to tell Derek you have feelings for him?” She asks bluntly.

Stiles tenses up, staring at the picture of the first victim.

He swallows and moves to get some string. “I will tell him about my feelings when he stops being an ass and starts treating me like a human being, instead of ignoring me.”

“You weren’t this stupid when we were dating.” She states.

Stiles looks over his shoulder to grin at her. “Well, you, my dear Lydia, weren’t a stubborn, brooding werewolf with trust issues who suffers from a serious case of emotional constipation.”

“Stiles, I really think you should talk to him.”

Stiles opens his mouth but the loud ringing of his cell phone cuts him off.

“I’m not telling him.” He tells Lydia as he makes his way to his phone, picking it up before she can say anything else on the matter.

“Hell—“

_“Stiles! We’re at the preserve! Come quick, it’s a—“_

The call cuts.

“Scott!” Stiles shouts. “Scott!”

Hearing nothing but a beep, Stiles hurriedly shoves his phone into his pocket, rushing around the room to grab his jacket, wrenching his closet door open to get his bat out.

“What happened?” Lydia asks, putting on her shoes as she runs out after him.

They both rush out of the house and jump into Stiles’ Jeep. He peels out of the driveway, and down the road, speeding towards the preserve.

“Stiles! What happened?” Lydia shouts.

“I don’t know. The line went dead before I could find anything out.”

They arrive at the preserve in no time.

“How are we going to find them?” Lydia asks as they make a break towards the old Hale house.

Stiles grips onto the bat in his hands, looking around, trying to see if he can find anything that might give him any hint on which direction the pack went.

He hears a low, echo of a howl but it gets lost in the wind before Stiles can pin point exactly where it came from.

He comes to a halt by a tree, lifting a hand and running his fingers over the claw marks.

He turns around, following the directing it goes. Lydia bends down, examining the ground.

Stiles opens his mouth to ask her what she found but she cuts him.

“This way,” She pushes herself up and rushes past him.

“Lydia!” He shouts, but she doesn’t stop, leaving him no choice but to follow her.

Branches smack against his arms as they follow astrail only Lydia can see. Her strawberry blonde hair whips in front of him, a bright orange glow for him to follow.

He hears a growl and stops to look up into the trees.

He narrows his eyes and sees nothing.

When he looks over to Lydia, he sees nothing but a vast image of trees before him.

“Oh great.” He mutters, lifting the bat in his hands, gripping onto it as he slowly starts walking, keeping an eye out for anything.

He knows he heard something.

A tingling sensation runs down his spine and Stiles, following his instinct, spins around ready to attack.

A hand comes up to grip the end of his bat and a fist collides with his nose.

His head whips back at the impact, causing him to lose his grip on the bat.

The attacker wraps their thick, meaty hands around his neck and squeezes before Stiles even has time to react.

His eyes bulge. He tries to take in a breath but the hand tightens around his larynx, hindering him.

Stiles grapples at the hand, his blunt fingers digging into their skin.

_Skin…_

His eyes snap up, locking with icy blue orbs.

_Human._

Stiles opens his mouth to scream, to do anything but the guy shoves him back.

His back slams against the hard wood of the tree trunk, the back of his skull snapping back against it.

“The Human who runs with Wolves.” The guys sneers, his lips curling in disgust.

Stiles tries to gasp, he attacks, elbowing the arm of the hand choking him but it’s pointless.

His ears start ringing, his face is burning as all the blood rushing to his brain.

“I thought those rumors were false. It’s bad enough we had one of our own, an _Argent_ no less, falling for one of those disgusting mutts but now we have this.”

_Oh shit. This guy is a hunter? Are you fucking kidding?_

The hunter reaches down for something and Stiles follows his movement, his eyes growing wider when he sees him pull out a long knife from his thigh sheath.

In a fit of panic, Stiles swings his leg up, feeling his knee connect with soft tissue.

The hunter grunts, his face turning red from being kneed in the nuts.

His hand uncurls from Stiles’ throat and Stiles drops down to the ground, gasping for oxygen, his lungs filling up with fresh, cool air.

Stiles hears a howl break through the silence, hitting him right in his gut.

He opens his mouth to scream, to let his pack know where he is but a force against his jaw cuts him off.

He falls to the ground and hears the leaves rustles. The hunter pounces on him, and Stiles sends a silent ‘thank you’ to Derek for insisting Stiles gets some training along with the pack.

Stiles rolls out from under him, his eyes lands on the knife on the floor.

He reaches for it, but something grips his pant leg, pulling him back. Stiles spins around and slams his foot against the guy’s nose.

The moment he lets go, Stiles scrambles for the knife.

His fingers wrap around the handle.

Relief floods through him.

Hands grab his shoulders, spinning him around and the hunter in on him again.

The weight of his body, crushing Stiles, stops him from moving around, leaving him no other choice but to use the only weapon he has.

He drives the knife toward the hunter’s back but the guy stops him with lightning fast reflexes, grabbing Stiles’ wrist, twisting his hand in a painful angle so the tip of the knife is aim directly at Stiles.

“This will teach you to never betray your own kind.” The hunter snarls down into his face.

Stiles fights against his hold, trying to stop the blade from coming down onto him. The tip is inches from his right eye, the world around him blurs as he focuses on the sharp steel tip.

“I hope you'v learned you’re lesson.”

The blade drives down and Stiles, with the last remaining strength, jerks his head and face to the side, feeling the blade piercing through his skin down his cheek and into the ground.

He head butts the hunter, his brain spinning from the impact and Stiles grunts in pain.

The hunter slumps off him a little, and Stiles pushes him off, scrambling around the ground for anything, using the small window of opportunity, his eyes locking onto his bat.

Another howl breaks out and Stiles recognizes it instantaneously.

“Derek! Dere—“

He is yanked back but it’s not matter, his hands wrap around the long wood and he lets the hunter turn him around, his blood dripping down onto Stiles face.

“God,” Stiles screams in frustration. “You motherfuc---“

He just attacks, slamming the side of the bat into the man’s face.

Stiles watches as the hunter’s eyes widen and then falls shut. He slouches over, falling down and inevitably off Stiles, onto the ground.

“K.O, you son of a bitch.” Stiles groans.

Footsteps pound against the floor, shaking the ground beneath him and Stiles just lays there.

The thundering and pounding gets closer and Stiles can actually feel him before he sees him.

“Stiles!”

Warm hands cups his cheeks, turning Stiles’ face that he didn’t even realize was turned sideways.

Stiles looks into concerned green eyes and smiles.

Pain radiates from the cut and he can feel his blood trail own the side of his face, his throat hurting as he tries to swallow.

“Hey there, Sourwolf. It took you long enough.”

Derek glares down at him.

“He’s out.” He hears Malia says from somewhere.

Stiles’ smirks up at Derek, feeling his eyes starting to droop as the adrenaline from the fight slowly leaves his body.

“You know…” Stiles slurs slightly, feeling Derek cup the back of his neck – Stiles moans at the feeling- and lifts him into a seated position.

He slumps back but a hard, warm and totally comfy chest stops him.

Scott kneels down beside him, his puppy brown eyes running over Stiles.

“You know…” Stiles starts again, rolling his head back to look at the man behind him. “I think we should just kiss and get over the whole… you know dancing thing we got going- I might die soon.”

“Shut up, Stiles.” Derek growls. “Anything?”

“No, he’s fine. Aside from the throat and cut.” Scott answers.

“Hey, Sourwolf.” Stiles interjects loudly, only his words are soft. _Damnit_. “You gonna kiss me or not?”

Derek sighs and looks down at him. “When you wake up, okay?”

Stiles smirks, looking over to Lydia. He can’t find her anywhere. All he sees are Malia, Kira and Liam—

“I’m right here, Stiles.”

Ah, there’s his angel… Well, one of his angels. Malia and Kira are his angels too.

“That’s good to know.” Lydia says.

He opens his mouth to tell her she was right but blackness soon takes over.

_But at least Derek’s head is no longer lodged in his colon._


	4. Witch's

College is fun.

Though, Stiles would prefer to have less sleepless nights, less early morning rising- to continuing working on his papers from the night before- College is ultimately fun.

It sucks ass too that he is so far away from everyone, from his dad, from Scott, from the pack and most of all from Derek.

He misses the brooding werewolf immensely, late-night calls and weekly Skyping doesn’t take away the pain he feels every time he wakes up, expecting to see the gorgeous man only to find a wall staring at him.

A white fucking wall.

He’s roommate is an okay guy.

A loud-mouth named James, studying Computer Science, who rambles and talks so much, Stiles is considering sending his father a gift for having to put up with him when he was a kid.

Stiles has friends here, James and Casey, two totally different people but somehow they all make it work.

And even if they didn’t, Stiles can’t really complain about being here and having no friends. Hell, after some of his classmates saw Derek, they all steered clear of Stiles, for whatever reason, Stiles doesn’t know nor does he care.

James and Casey were the only ones who didn’t care.

“Hey, I’m gonna head back to the dorm.” Stiles says, letting out a loud, wide mouth yawn.

Stephen, his study-buddy, nods, looking around the almost empty library.

“Yeah, I guess. I’ll get back too.” He says with a sad sigh.

Stiles nods, giving Stephen a pat on the shoulder before turning around and slowly, makes his way back to his dorm-room.

God, he just wants to fall into bed and sleep for a year but at the same time, he wants to pulls out his phone and call Derek or his dad, or call somebody back home…

Even if he did call his dad this morning.

He just hopes this week goes fast, then he can go back to Beacon Hills.

His paper is already done and handed in but still, Stiles just has to stay a little longer, get in the studying he knows he isn’t going to do back home.

A vibration in his front pants pulls him back.

With a sigh, Stiles digs into his pocket and pulls out his cell, not even bothering to check who it is.

“This is Tired as Fuck Stiles, how can I _not_ help you?”

There is a long pause and Stiles stops, feeling a weird tingly sensation run down his spine.

There is shuffling and then he hears harsh breathing.

“S-Stiles?”

His entire body tenses up, the sleepy, hazy feeling evacuates from every cell in his body.

“Lydia?”

“Stiles---Don’t come!—Don’t---“

Bile rises in his throat, his hand tightens around his phone when another male voice speaks.

“Tell your Alpha we’ll be waiting.”

Dial-tone.

Stiles stands there, the phone pressed against his ear.

Swallowing the panic down, he takes off.

He rushes to his Jeep that’s parked in the vacant parking lot, thrusting the key into the ignition.

Stiles ignores the screeching sound Roscoe makes as he pulls out and speeds towards his dorm room.

Stiles is bouncing in his seat, feeling that familiar cocktail of worry and anger run through his veins.

Lydia’s scared and quivering voice rings in his ears, over and over. A never ending message telling to him hurry, to driver faster, to get to back to Beacon Hills.

When Stiles bursts through into his room, he ignores James as the man jumps up and off the bed. He just starts shoving all his clothes into a duffle bag, taking his laptop and anything he might need with him.

“Stiles? Stiles, is everything okay?”

Stiles pushes past James, dropping to the floor to get underneath his bed, pulling out the small bag of Mountain Ash and herbs that hides his scents that he had brought with him.

“Stiles-“ James grabs onto his shoulder just as he stands up, spinning him around. “Dude, what the hell is going on?”

“Nothing!” Stiles shouts. “Look, something came up at home, alright? I’ll call the school tomorrow let them know what happen.”

He looks around, making sure he got everything, before grabbing his bag, tossing it over his shoulder.

“What is it? Is it you’re dad? Is he---“

“James,” Stiles cuts him off. “Look just,” He spins around, grabbing his recorder from his desk and hands it to his roommate. “Give this to Stephen and Kristen, okay? Have them record the lectures. I’ll be back soon.”

With that he spins around, leaving a bewildered James Decker behind.

 

** ___________________________________________________**

 

 

He doesn’t care if those bastards can hear him as he pull up outside the old building where Derek lives.

He takes the elevator, the loud metalic sound of pulling chains grates on his every nerve, fuelling his anger.

He shoves it open, briskly walking to the loft’s door before wrenching it open.

Every eye turns to look at him. Malia, Jordan, Kira, Scott, heck even Liam, turns to look over at him with wide eyes but Stiles ignores them all, his eyes locked solely on the one person he is angry at the most right now.

“When the hell were you going to tell me?” Stiles shouts, marching into the loft.

Derek sighs from where he is leaning against the table, looking over to Stiles with a mournfully expression.

“Stiles-“

“How long has she been missing?”

Scott, thankfully, is the one who answers, stepping away from the table and closer to Stiles.

“For about three days,” He says slowly.

His heart spikes up, slamming against his chest.

“What?” He asks in a slow and low tone. “Lydia has been gone for three days and nobody thought to tell me?”

“We didn’t want you to worry.” Scott answers.

“And by ‘we’ you mean, _you_ , right?” He shouts, turning to glare at Derek.

Scott opens his mouth, most likely to reassure Stiles but Derek cuts him off, walking around the table and over to Stiles.

“Scott, it’s okay.” He says, giving the Alpha a look to which Scott nods, glancing over to his best friend before walking back to the table.

Derek moves closer to Stiles, grabbing onto his arm and gently steers him away from everyone. "Let's go upstairs and talk.”

“Screw talking!” Stiles snaps, yanking his arm from Derek’s hold. “Lydia has been gone for three days and I knew nothing about it!”

“Stiles, let’s talk about this somewhere else. Your anger is not helping anyone.” Derek states calmly and firmly, before promptly turning around and making his way up the spiral staircase.

Stiles turns to glare at everyone at the table who all seem to be sheepishly looking at him before turning around and follow Derek up, his feet stomping against the metal steps.

He arrives at the top to see Derek standing only a few meters away from him, his arms crossed over his chest, his facial expression stern and cold, as if he has already mentally prepared himself for the verbal ass-whipping he is about to get.

“Talk.”

Derek sighs. “I understand why you are upset, okay? I do, but Scott and I agreed that it would be best if you didn’t know about it because you’d end up doing exactly this. Drive up here in a fit of worry, leaving school to come and help a situation that doesn’t need helping.”

“Are you for real?” Stiles asks incredulously, “I mean, seriously, are you fucking kidding me right now? I get a call tonight, from Lydia and some guy I don’t even know. I get a call and I hear Lydia’s scared voice on the other side. I HAVE NO IDEA WHERE SHE IS OR HOW SHE GOT THERE AND I’M IRRESPONSIBLE FOR REACTING TO THE SITUATION BY DRIVING UP HERE TO HELP SAVE SOMEONE I LOVE?”

“Stiles-“

“What?” Stiles shouts. “What could you possibly say to justify this, Derek?”

Derek eyes turns a glowing blue. “I can’t do this right now, okay? The reason why I didn’t tell you was because we’re not sure if the witch who took her is after her because she is a female or because she is human, or because she is a banshee. I can’t risk the only human in this pack getting hurt because he wants to play hero.”

Derek takes a step forward.

“So, I’m going to go back down there because we were just about to leave before you came here. We know where she is and who took her. You are going to stay here, and not leave this—“

“Excuse me?” Stiles cuts him off, getting in his face. “Let’s make one thing clear here, Derek. I am your boyfriend. I am not your dog that you can command and I will _roll over_ and _stay_ , like a _good little Stiles_.”

“Damnit, Stiles! I am trying to protect you! I do not need to go into this thing, worrying about your safety too. I am doing this to protect you, now please, just for once, listen to me and stay here.”

They hold eye contact, staring each other down.

Stiles clenches his jaw stubbornly, biting down on his tongue to keep his words in.

Derek seems to have found what he is looking for because he exhales sharply before pushing past Stiles and walks down the stairs.

Stiles wants to follow. He wants to go out with them, but between a protective best friend and an over-protective boyfriend, Stiles knows he isn’t going to be able to set foot out of the loft.

Taking in a deep, calming breath, Stiles makes his way to Derek’s bed and sits down.

He runs his fingers through his hair, trying to calm his frantic heart as he hears the loft door being opened and closed and then… silence.

Lydia’s voice still rings in his ears. He can just image her tear stained face and Stiles feels his anger towards Derek and Scott and everyone for agreeing to it, rise once more.

Pulling out his phone, he sees that 10 minutes has passed.

“This is taking too long.”

With no other resolve, he pushes himself off the bed and runs down the staircase.

He stops by the table where all the planning lays bare for his eyes.

Stiles takes in every detail, the research they had accumulated, the small notes they had taken and the obvious conclusion they came to.

There, circles with red ink, is the location of the witch's lair. An old, graveyard site just off a beaten path outside of Beacon Hills.

Knowing a bat is not going to be of any help, Stiles makes his way to the small safe Derek had installed a long time ago.

He reaches down, putting in the code and then pulls out everything he need.

Two mags, a knife and a gun.

 

                                                                                  **________________________________________________**

 

When he gets near the location, he finds a dark, well-hidden place to park the Jeep.

Stiles gets out, hiding his gun under the waist band of his jean by the side, under his shirt and makes his way towards the cemetery.

The night is cold and dark, the moon hidden behind thick clouds, heavy with the rain that would soon come.

He looks around, trying to find any clue to where the pack might have gone to. Knowing Scott, Liam and Derek they would be taking on the witch, then having Malia and Parrish track Lydia.

But he knows they would not be able to find her.

One thing Stiles has learned is that witches have a cunning ability to mislead anyone and anything, they have spells and herbs, access to magic that could trick even a trained Alpha.

But Stiles isn’t an Alpha, nor a supernatural creature.

Stiles makes his way to the graveyard, recalling the map, the area around the marked cemetery.

He can hear growling and sees sparks of flames fly up into the air on the far left side.

Great, the fireworks are already starting.

Why can’t they ever have a nice, quiet battle?

As Stiles get close to the graveyard, and jumps the fence, he lands on the ground with a soft thud.

He holds the crouched position, looking around to see if he triggered anything and then makes a break for the darkest, shadowed part of the graveyard.

 _Okay, so think, Stiles_.

Derek and the pack are fighting far ahead of him, where he is sure the crypt that holds the bones and bodies of the witches’ ancestors are located, because most witches are all about the powers of those before them.

And if he is right, these witches are also the sacrifice innocent people for those ancestors type.

This graveyard is clearly not part of the crypt, holding a bunch of unmarked graves, some look freshly dug, so clearly this graveyard holds nothing important.

Which is why, it would be a perfect place, to hold a Banshee hostage.

The smell of dead, rotting corpse, will no doubt over shadow Lydia’s scent.

Pulling out his gun, Stiles takes in a deep breath and slowly makes his way deeper into the graveyard.

He can feel his feet sink into the wet muddy soil, muffling his approach.

He looks around, trying to find Lydia, knowing she will either be near the end of the graveyard or in the middle.

The further he walks, he sees a small yellowish glow brightening up the darkened, misty place.

“You’re not going to get away with this!”

_Ah, there she is._

Stiffening the small sigh that threatens to escape, he trudges closer.

“The spell will not work!”

“Silence!”

“Fine, you want to anger your ancestors, go right ahead. You’re entire coven will suffer!”

The loud sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through the silent graveyard.

Tightening his hold on the gun, Stiles makes his way closer to them, holding the gun out in front of him.

“You can come out now, Mr Stilinski. I have been waiting for you.”

A force strikes against his chest, and Stiles finds himself flying back, his body slamming against the trunk.

He screams in pain when his back flares up. He falls to the ground with a loud thud, his fingers losing its grip on the gun.

He hears a muffles scream somewhere.

Stiles grunts, shaking off the pain as he clenches his fist, presses them both of the ground and then pushes himself up.

He looks up, locking eyes with Lydia.

She is tied to a tree, her arms wrapped around the trunk and clearly bound together like her leg. She screams again, but it is muffled by the gag in her mouth.

He glances down to her hand to see them subtly moving back and forth.

Turning away, Stiles sees a figure standing by a crackling fire, large enough to not die out but small enough to not attract attention.

The man looks over to Stiles, giving him a sickening grin.

“Who are you?” Stiles asks, his eyes flickering down to the ground for his gun.

“Who I am is of no importance…” He gives Stiles a grin once more. “What I am planning on doing is.”

“Oh yeah?” Stiles taunts, taking a step closer to Lydia. “And what is that?”

The man chuckles. “Why sacrifices, of course. My coven has to keep the ancestors happy somehow, otherwise where will we get our power from.”

Stiles clenches his jaw. “How about you just give up the witchery thing all together?”

Stiles sees a small glint of silver a few steps away from him.

“Well, we can’t all be Sparks, now can we?”

Just as his eyes lock on his gun, he feels something wrap around his neck, squeezing.

Stiles gasps, his hands coming up to clutch onto his neck, only to be met with hot skin.

The man walks closer, his arm stretched out in front of him with his fist clenched tightly.

“Do you think I’m a fool, Mr Stilinski?” The man asks, walking closer to the gun and then kicks it away.

Stiles gasps for air.

“We have been planning this ritual for months… The ancestors will be blessed to be rewarded with a Banshee and a former Spark.”

The grip of his neck vanishes and Stiles falls to the ground, taking in heavy gulps of air.

Fingers tangle through his hair, grips onto his strands and forces his head up and back.

Stiles doesn’t struggles, lets the witch man-handle him as he slowly moves his hand toward his back to his sheath.

“You are going to be a lovely gift.”

Stiles grins. “Bite me.”

He pulls his knife free and stabs it into the witch’s shoulder, the closest thing his foggy mind could reach.

The witch lets him go, and Stiles scrambles away from him and over to Lydia.

He gets to the back of the tree, hearing her incessant muffled screams as he does quick work with the rope. It is almost half-way torn through so all he has to give is one slice and her hands break free.

A force knocks him back.

“Lydia!” Stiles shouts to her when he sees the witch advance on them.

A loud piercing scream breaks through.

Stiles’ ears rings and he cups his hands over them, watching as the witch flies back from the strength of Lydia’s powerful Banshee scream.

The screaming stops and the witch remains on the ground.

Stiles lets out a sigh, turning on the ground to look over to Lydia as she makes work on the rope around her legs.

In the distance he hears a howl and turns to smirk at a freed Lydia.

 

                                                                                               **___________________________**

 

When he gets to Derek’s loft, he wastes no time to grab his duffle bag filled with clothes.

He hears the door slide shut as Derek storms in after him but Stiles doesn’t turn around.

Neither of them had said anything after tonight’s fight. They came back in separate cars, Stiles dropping Lydia off and Derek dropping off the others.

“Stiles-“

“Derek, I really don’t want to talk about this right now.” He turns to glare at his boyfriend. “Okay, I am in pain and filthy. I just want to take a shower.”

Stiles doesn’t wait for an answer, just takes the stairs to the bathroom.

The water pressure is great and Stiles remains under the spray of warm water longer than he should, wanting to delay the fight that he knows is about to happen the moment he steps out the bathroom.

After a half-hour or so, Stiles turns off the water and gets dressed.

He avoids looking over his body, knowing his pale skin is once again bruised up.

He wonders how is going to explain this to the guys back at school.

They already believe Stiles is in some form of abusive relationship and it’s not like Stiles can tell them the truth, no matter how much he insists he isn’t and that his dad would shoot anybody who even thinks about laying a hand on him.

As Stiles descends the stairs, Derek is still standing there.

The werewolf says nothing, only brushes past him and walks up the stairs. The pipes in the loft rattles when the shower turns on and Stiles lets out the breath he has been holding in.

Sending a quick text to the pack to let them know he is safe and confirming that they too are safely home, he puts on the kettle for cup of coffee.

An hour later, Derek walks into the kitchen.

“You ready to talk now?”

Stiles sighs and sets his almost empty mug down.

“I don’t see what the point is? I already know what’s going to be said. _‘Stiles, how could you go out? Stiles, how could you disobey a direct order?’_ ,” Stiles mocks in a deep voice before using his normal one. “Well, Derek, you see I wasn’t going to sit around and do nothing. Not when Lydia is out there. _‘Stiles, we had it covered’_ … Then I don’t really see what the big deal is, Derek.”

He turns to Derek and raises his eyebrows. “That about covers it?”

Derek glares at him. “You really don’t see the problem?”

“No, Derek, I _clearly_ don’t! Why don’t you tell me what the hell the problem is?”

“Stiles! Every time something happens to her you go running off playing hero without any concern for your own life! Okay, I get it, you love her, I understand that but why, why, can’t you just for once listen to me when I tell you, you could be in danger? That witch could have killed you out there.”

“He could have killed Lydia too!”

Derek seethes and shakes his head. He moves to turn around but Stiles jerks forward, grabs his forearm to stop him.

“No! You wanted to fight, so you don’t get to walk away from me! What the hell is the real problem? You never seem to have a problem when anyone else from the pack in endanger and I go out to help them. So what is it? Is it because it’s Lydia?”

“Yes!” Derek shouts in his face.

Stiles freezes, his jaw falling slack.

“Yes, okay, it’s because of Lydia! Okay, I get that you have feelings for her! I tried to ignore it, even when we got together because she assured me that you guys were done! I understand that and I know that you love me! But every single goddamn time—“ Derek cuts himself.

Stiles stares at him in shock.

“You think, I _have_ feelings for me? That’s what this is about?” He asks, his voice expressing the utter shock he feels.

Derek clenches his jaw, shakes his head and looks away.

Swallowing, Stiles takes in a deep breath, forcing the anger down as far as he could.

“Derek, I am over Lydia.”

Derek scoffs. “Are you fucking kidding me? You expect me to believe—“

“That I’m not in love with her anymore, yes! Because one, I would never get into a relationship with someone if I had feelings for someone else.”

“Is that so? What about Malia?”

“I loved Malia! Okay? I had feeling for her and I wasn’t about to let something that had the potential to be great, go. I chose to be with Malia. I chose to love her. Nothing will change that. I will always, _always,_ love Malia, just like I will always love Lydia. But I am not in love with either of them anymore.”

Derek searches his eyes, his green-blue orbs bouncing back and forth.

“Derek, I need you to accept that I will always love them, okay? And I need you to understand that _you_ are the man that I am in love with. If we broke up, and god help us I pray we don’t, but even then… I will never stop loving you.”

Stiles cups Derek’s cheek, holding eye contact.

“Come on, Sourwolf, you know that.” Stiles urges Derek.

Instead of a reply, warm lips capture his and Stiles moves his hand to grab the back of Derek’s neck, wrapping his arm around the werewolf to pull him closer.

Derek returns the embrace, hugging Stiles close to his body. Their lips move against one another slowly, neither of them rushing the kiss in any way.

When they pull back, Stiles stares at Derek with raised eyebrows.

His boyfriend gives him a small, faint smile and nods.

“I believe you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this isn't much of Stiles taking care of himself but it does fall under the Unexpected category.
> 
> Plus, I love it when Stiles and Lydia work together.


	5. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles proves once again that he isn't a walking cliche...

The soft, chit-chatter of various people around puts Stiles on edge.

He swallows thickly, tugging at the collar of his white crisp shirt, in hopes to cool his flustered body down.

Malia is standing off to the side, in a beautiful mid-nightshade dress that falls over her frame like silk on skin, glaring at everyone and anyone who looks her way.

He shuffles, looking around.

He sees Lydia, her fire strawberry blonde hair elegantly twisted and curled into a perfect bun, a few strands hanging strategically down the side of her face and down her back.

She is laughing with a werewolf, Stiles has never met, touching his arm occasionally as she does so.

Stiles shakes his head and scoffs. _That poor, unsuspecting bastard._

“Here you go.”

He turns around at the sound of his voice, his lips tugging up into an open mouth smile.

He can’t help but run his eyes over Derek once more, taking in the pressed grey three-piece suit. His hair is gelled back and his stubble perfectly trimmed.

“Stiles.”

Stiles doesn’t bother hiding it, as he slowly raises his eyes up to Derek, smirking when the werewolf rolls his eyes at him.

Derek shakes the glass of champagne in his hand slightly and Stiles takes the offered glass, taking a small sip from it.

A warm arm wraps around his waist, as Stiles turns to face the large hall again, switching the glass to his other hand so he could wrap his own arm around Derek.

They keep a small, modest distance between them, smiling and nodding when other werewolves lock eyes with the couple and nod in greeting.

Though they are here for Scott- The ever popular True Alpha Puppy- many people still know Derek, thanks to the rich and well known history of the Hale’s.

Speaking of, he looks around, seeking out Scott and finds him on the dance floor with Malia.

She looks angry as she glares at Scott but other than that, she keeps her arms around him.

_Huh, that’s interesting…_

“How long did Scott say we'd have to stay here?” A warm breath washes over the shell of his ear as Derek whispers to him.

He shivers slightly. “He didn’t. But he said by mid-night we are free to leave.”

Derek grunts in displeasure, grabs Stiles’ glass and drowns every last drop of the champagne.

Stiles gapes at him, his open hanging open.

“Hey, that was mine.”

“I’ll get you another one, later.” Derek says, turning around to put the glass on a nearby table. “’Sides, I need it more than you. This is your first time at these kinds of conventions but this is not mine and I know how these conventions are.”

“Oh, don’t be such a Sourwolf.” Stiles rolls his eyes. “Also, I know you can’t get drunk.”

Derek turns to him, opening his mouth, no doubt to say something sarcastic when a sweet, soft voice cuts him off.

“Derek Hale?”

They turns around to see a gorgeous blonde girl making her way over to them. She flashes her eyes, her iris’ glowing a golden yellow before returning it’s beautiful green shade.

Stiles runs his eyes over her, taking in her 5’11 frame, the way her emerald green dress hugs every curve of her body, accenting her foreign features and faint muscles.

“Elizabeth?”

A huge smile spreads across the woman’s face and she hastens her pace, moving to wrap her arms around Derek’s neck.

Stiles feels Derek’s arm drop from around him to return to embrace and he steps a little to the side to give the two some space.

Soon, they pull apart and Elizabeth smiles up at Derek. “Wow, it is so good to see you. It’s been what? 14 years?”

_Is that an Australian accent?_

“Hah, 15 years actually. But then again, you were never really good at time.”

Elizabeth laughs, her hand falling down as she gives Derek’s bicep a small, noticeable squeeze.

Stiles frowns at the act but fixes his expression when the two old friends turns to him.

“Elizabeth, this is Mieczysław Stilinski.”

Stiles reaches out a hand, taking her and giving it a gentle shake. “You can call me, Stiles. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

He discreetly sends Derek a glare for even mentioning that name.

Elizabeth laughs at him slightly before dropping his hand. “Pleasure.”

Then, she turns around, looking away and focuses all her attention on Derek.

Stiles’ eyebrows flashes up and he presses his lips together… _because, really?_

“So, tell me Derek, how have you been?” She asks.

“I’ve been great and you? How is the family?”

They continues their conversation, Derek returning his arm around Stiles, who doesn’t miss the way Elizabeth’s eyes flash slightly at the gesture.

He remains standing there, adding small bits of information when Derek tries and fails to include him in the conversation his friend clearly doesn’t want him in.

Sighing, Stiles turns around so he can whisper into Derek’s ear. “I’m gonna go get something to eat. You two can continue to catch up.”

He pulls back and Derek turns to stare at him for a short while, looking for something in his eyes.

He smiles, leans in to press a kiss on Stiles’ lips before Stiles moves away from Derek and Elizabeth, stopping a waiter to ask where the bathroom is.

He has wanted to pee since he got here.

But he wasn’t going to tell Derek that, like he wants to see the know it all look from his boyfriend who clearly stated he shouldn’t drink so much water.

What was he supposed to do?

He was nervous and God forbid he drank coffee, then Derek would have had an aneurysm.

So water it was.

Now, _water_ is threatening to explode from his bladder.

Finishing off, Stiles moves to the sink to wash his hands, looking at his own reflection in the mirror.

He doesn’t even recognize this person in front of him. Gone is the flannel and graphic shirts with jeans and in its place is a man dressed in an all-black suit, black shirt with a button or two undone, a black jacket and black slacks.

He should thank Lydia later for helping him get ready and for fixing his hair, somehow getting his messy, spiked up hair to look almost presentable. Like Stiles meant to have his hair standing up and not because he was too tried to actually try and get it to lay down.

Shaking his head, he makes his way back to where he left Derek and Elizabeth only to find them gone.

Shrugging, he turns around and picks up one of the smallest finger food he has ever seen.

_Really? Is this considered food?_

He pops it into his mouth and chews only twice before swallowing.

_That’s it. After this, Derek is stopping at the nearest diner to get him a nice, juicy burger and curly fries._

“Hey.”

Stiles turns to see Scott standing next to him.

“Here, taste this.” Stiles says, shoving a tooth pick with only three things on it. Cheese, pickle and something meaty.

Scott takes a bit, chewing it slowly. “This is good.”

“Yeah, fills you right up, doesn’t it?” Stiles asks.

His voice is polite as he can get it.

They are, after all, in a room full of werewolves with super hearing and the last thing he wants to do is offend the people who put this together.

He is sure the other werewolves aren’t as hungry as he is, mostly because he is pretty sure, the werewolves here come to these conventions to associate with other packs all across the world on a regular basis.

The only reason Scott came here was because the convention was a drive or two away from Beacon Hills.

“So… How was the dance with Malia?” Stiles asks, turning to grin at Scott.

The Alpha frowns at him. “Huh?”

Seeing the confused expression, Stiles rolls his eyes and sighs. “Never mind. I just think you should go back to dancing with her… She looks like she’s going to rip that guy’s head off.”

He points behind Scott. The True Alpha spins around and sure enough, Malia takes a menacing step forward a man. Scott wastes no time to rush across the room, leaving a chuckling Stiles in his wake.

After a while, he starts looking around to see if he can find Derek.

He goes up to Lydia, who is dancing with a tall, brunette werewolf, to ask if she has seen him.

She points to the staircase.

“Yeah, he said the woman was going to show him some paintings. Said, you should just follow the right stairwell and they will be down the hall to the left.”

Nodding, Stiles follow the directions.

He stops every now and then to introduce himself to other’s who stop him, curious to know about the closest friend of the first True Alpha since decades.

He hears voices as he reaches the top of the stairs, the red velvet carpeting muffling his steps and sadly theirs too so all he can do is follow the directions Lydia gave him.

Just as he rounds the corner, he stops dead in his tracks, his heart stopping and dropping at the sight before him.

There he stands, Derek, with his lips pressed against Elizabeth. Derek's shoulders are hunched up and then suddenly he pulls away from her.

Stiles' heart stutters and it draws the attention of both werewolves.

Derek’s green eyes widen, his hand comes up to wipe his mouth. “Stiles, it’s not what it looks like.”

Elizabeth runs her thumb over her bottom lip as she stares at Stiles.

Stiles looks from her to Derek. “Really?”

Derek nod, looking ready to speak again but the Australian next to him cuts him off.

“Derek and I was just catching up, Stiles. Think nothing of it.”

Stiles glares at her. “You needed your tongue down his throat to get reacquainted?”

She smirks at him, her green eyes holding a sadistic glint. “Like I said, we were catching up.”

“Stiles.” Derek’s hard voice cuts her off. He turns to glare at Elizabeth, taking a step towards Stiles. “Stiles, I swear it’s not---“

Elizabeth scoff behind him, cutting him off.

Before Derek can even start up with ‘it’s not what it looks like’, Stiles lifts a hand to stop him as he speaks.

“Look, I don’t have time for… _this_.” He waves his hand at the two werewolves.

“I just came here to let you know that I’m only going to stay for an hour or so before heading home.”

With that, he turns and walks away from them.

 

  *********************************

 

The cold wind blows against his face, through his shirt, helping him clear his thoughts.

He leans his forearms against the stone railing of the balcony, with a timber of whiskey in his hand, the ice clinking as he slowly twirls the glass.

“Hey.”

He turns around and smiles as Derek slowly makes his way over to him, his hands in his pockets and his head ducked down.

“Hey.”

Derek and Stiles stare at one another for a beat before words starts pouring out of the werewolf’s mouth.

“Stiles… I swear to you… I didn’t—we weren’t… She was just showing me around, okay? There are these painting of all the werewolf family lines, she wanted to show me mine and I followed her. I had no idea she- she would do that.”

Stiles hums, “So…” He narrows his eyes at Derek. “How did she take the rejection?”

Derek’s head snaps up, and Stiles smirks at him.

“What?” He asks dumbly.

“Oh please.” Stiles scoffs. “What did you think I was doing here? Crying my eyes out because I saw my boyfriend locking lips with another woman?”

“You- You’re not mad?”

Stiles turns back to look out the view before him.

The night sky glittered with twinkling stars, the bright crescent moon hangs in the air, like a silver beacon. The cold breeze rustles the trees nearby, the sound traveling with the air and right into his ears.

Derek comes to stand next to him, his forearms coming to rest on the railing, inches from Stiles’ as if he is afraid to touch him.

“I’m not mad at you, Derek. I’m mad at _her_.”

“Stiles, I swear to God, I didn’t kiss her.” Derek stresses out.

Stiles sighs, leaning closer to Derek. He turns to the worrying werewolf and smiles. “I know.”

“You _know_?”

“Derek, I am not a child. There’s this thing that I have that’s called trust, okay? I know you and I know you would never cheat on me.”

Derek frowns at him.

“What?” Stiles asks.

“You really trust me that much?”

“Dude, I’m an adult. If I was maybe sixteen and saw it, yeah I would have had a million doubts swimming through my head but I’m not. We’re been together for almost three years, pinned after each other for longer. I know you and I know you would never do anything to hurt me.”

Derek stares at him for a second, his green eyes flickering back and forth before he leans over to kiss him.

“Woah.” Stiles says, jerking back.

His boyfriend pulls back with a frown, his eyes confused and hurt.

“Here.” Stiles says, handing Derek the whisky.

“Stiles, you know this won’t affect me.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “No, babe, I want you to drink that so you can sterilize your mouth and throat.”

Derek gives him an incredulously look before drowning the whole glass, making a show of blowing up his cheeks and slowly swallowing.

Stiles’ laughter gets cut off by a pair of soft lips.

He is not complaining…


	6. Safe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, the final chapter. Thank you to everyone who read this story, who commented, who liked it. They were all truly appreciated and hearing you guys express you thoughts, helped me a lot.

Stiles slips the keys into the lock, opening the front door with a hazy mind, following a routine rather than focusing on what he is doing.

As he steps inside, he is greeted by silence which he isn’t surprised by given that Derek must have gone out to get dinner.

His body feels numb, a sensation he is all but used to yet it still makes him feel sick.

His uniform is stained, his white shirt covered in blood, the crimson liquid having seeped through it to his under vest where it sticks to his skin.

His knuckles are bruised and there is a dull pain in his hand but he barely registers it.

Locking the door, he goes around the house, switching on the lights, putting off the alarm before he trudges up the stairs, his shoes thudding against the carpet.

Entering the bedroom, he walks to the safe, takes off his service pistol and locks it away, wanting it as far away from him as possible, in hopes that it will take the memories of today with it.

Yet his thoughts drifts back to that moment…

 

*

 

_The man runs ahead of him, grabbing onto the scared, terrified woman. He turns them around, using her as a human shield, wrapping his forearm around her neck, holding her in place as she sobs and cries._

 

_The gun in the man’s hands comes up and he presses it against the woman’s temple._

 

*

 

Stiles walks to their bathroom, stripping out of his clothes. He looks down at his red stained white shirt, the blood pool around his stomach area, the splatter of blood drops on the chest.

He drops it onto the floor, leaving everything in a heap.

His suit pants, his suit jacket, his shirt, his tie, his shoes, his socks.

Stiles looks down at his hands, where there are small crusts of dried up blood in between his fingers.

Feeling sick, Stiles looks away and gets into the shower.

He turns the hot water on first, not caring if it is burning against his skin, before he turns on the cold water, lessening the heat.

He reaches for his body wash, washing every inch of skin that he can find.

He scrubs and scrubs, feeling the reassuring bang-bang of metal against his chest from his wedding ring that hangs over his neck.

He can still remember the first time he left it on and ended up getting blood on his fingers and on the ring.

After he had scrubbed his hands raw and cleaned the ring, he never made the mistake of wearing it on his finger again.

Not wanting the taint the black metal band with the horror that is his job at the FBI.

 

*

 

_“Sir! Drop the gun!” Stiles shouts._

_The woman cries harder, her teary eyes begging Stiles to help her._

_The man shakes his head, pressing the gun harder against the side of her head._

_“No! I swear to God, I will kill her! Stay the fuck back!”_

 

_“Put the gun down, now!”_

 

_“Stay back!”_

 

_“Put it down!”_

 

_“I had to! You don’t understand! I had to! She was gonna leave!”_

 

_“Put the gun down, now!”_

 

_“No!”_

 

_The man’s finger squeezes the trigger._

 

_Gun fire breaks out._

 

_A body drops._

 

*

 

Stiles shuts his eyes, bowing his head as the water rains down on him.

He shakes his head, trying to get the image out of his head but he knows, after years of doing this, nothing will ever remove that what had been witnessed.

He washes his hair, watching as pink foam falls to the tiled floor of the shower and Stiles scrubs his hair until the foam turns white, before washing it again just to make sure.

Over the loud pour of the shower water, he hears a knock.

Pausing, Stiles turns his head just a little to see if he heard correctly.

The knock comes again.

“Stiles?”

Sighs, Stiles takes in a deep breath, not wanting to leave the shower.

“Stiles? Baby, it’s me. Open the door.”

 _Damnit, Derek_.

Knowing he won’t be left alone, Stiles shuts off the water and steps out. “I’m coming now, hold on.” He says, trying to keep his voice calm.

Derek stops knocking but Stiles can see the shadow of his feet under the door.

Drying himself off, Stiles wraps a towel around his waist, checking in the mirror to see his reflection.

The small bag’s under his eyes is not so bad but the dead look in them is still there.

He picks up his clothes, unlocks the bathroom door and steps out.

Derek is standing there, barely a foot away from the door.

The moment Stiles walks out, Derek closes the distance between them.

His warm hands comes up to cup his face, he ducks his head just a bit to look at Stiles.

“Hey.” Stiles greets, trying to force a smile.

“Hey… Mike called me, told me what happened today.” Derek says softly, his voicing soothing Stiles just a bit.

Stiles shakes his head. “It’s nothing new.” He then steps back and raises the clothes up in his hands. “I’m gonna put this in the washing machine for tomorrow. There’s blood on them.”

He makes a move to walk past Derek but his husband stops him, wrapping his hands around Stiles’ arm, his thumbs stoking his skin.

“That can wait, Stiles. Come on, talk to me.”

Stiles shakes his head once more. “I don’t want to talk about it, Derek.”

His hands come up to Stiles cheek once more and when the soft pads of Derek’s thumbs swipes across his cheek, leaving it wet, Stiles realizes he is crying.

“Baby, locking it in is not the answer. You know that.”

The clothes fall from his hands and Stiles lets it. His arms hang limply on the side of his body.

 

*

 

_Stiles stands there, watching as the man falls to the ground, the bullet tearing through his shoulder._

 

_The woman falls, with him but Stiles rushes forward, catching her in his arms and moves her away from the man._

 

_“Thank you! Thank you!” She sobs into his shoulder. “Thank you! Thank—“_

 

_A gun shot rings out and the woman gasps, her eyes widening._

_Stiles’ hand flashes up, his gun aimed at the man clutching his gun and he fires._

_The man freezes as blood splatters behind his head._

 

_Not waiting time, Stiles looks over the woman._

_His hand brushes against something wet by her stomach and he pulls back to see blood._

_The woman cough, blood spitting over his shirt._

_Stiles holds her to his body, lowering her onto the ground, he shrugs off his suit jacket, presses it against her stomach wound._

 

_The front door bursts open as the rest of the team arrives._

 

*

 

“Stiles?”

“She was his wife.” Stiles finds himself whispering. “She was his wife, Derek. And he just shot her.”

“Stiles.” Derek sighs his name.

“He killed four families, four mothers, six children… All because his wife was going to leave him and then he shot her.”

A hand cups the back of his head and pulls him closer.

Stiles goes willingly, letting Derek pulling him into a tight embrace.

Stiles turns his head into the crook of Derek’s neck, crying silently.

A soft kiss is pressed against the side of his head and Derek soothing hushes reaches his ears, drowning out the sound of gun fire in his head, his finger scratching against his sculpt making his raw skin feel clean.

Soon, his crying subsides.

“Come on… Let’s get to bed, okay?” Derek whispers.

Stiles steps back, bending down for his clothes but large hands grasp his.

“Leave them, I’ll take care of it. Come on,” Derek tugs him away, walking backwards towards their bed.

Stiles follows him, letting Derek unwrap his towel.

He doesn’t care that he is naked and Derek doesn’t once glance down.

His husband tugs off his own clothes, leaving him only in his briefs.

He gently guides Stiles to their bed, shoving the covers away before lowering Stiles down and following right after.

Stiles shuffles over, placing his head over his husband’s chest, pressing his ear right over Derek’s heart.

He sighs when the rhythmic beat reaches his ear and runs through his entire body.

Fingers curls through his hair, nails scratching sculpt once more. Warm, strong arms around him, pulling him as close as humanly possible.

“You know how every time I lose someone or I couldn’t save someone, you would always sit me down, place yourself on my lap even if we are the same height and then hold my head against your chest.”

Stiles says nothing, only strokes his fingers gently against Derek’s side to let him know he is listening.

“And then you would tell me that even though one soul was lost, I helped ensure that thousands more will be possible… So, even if that woman didn’t make it and you had to kill that man… Because of you, four families now have closure and even more families are now safe. Because of you, a dozen kids have been spared the heartache of losing a parent.”

Derek leans down and presses his lips against the crown of Stiles’ head.

Stiles bites his lips, feeling the warm, wet tear accumulate on corner of his eyes, before spilling over the side of his nose.

Derek pulls him closer, shifting to turn slightly towards Stiles, tightening his hold on him.

“Because of you… This world is a little bit safer.”

Stiles turns his head, burying it in Derek’s chest before he lets out a heart wrenching sob.

For the wife and woman who died in his arms.

For the husbands who lost their whole families.

For the man he had to kill.

“Shh, baby. Shh, It's going to be okay…”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, question: Does anyone know of any apps or something that I could use to maybe do some photoshop or whatever it is called. I want to try and make some art work for my stories but I have no idea where to start.. So, if any of you know, help would be appreciated. :D

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this because I saw a lot of fics where Stiles is damsel in distress and I just wanted to vent.
> 
> Now, there is nothing wrong with those fic. I myself read those fics because it mostly has a lot of Sterek feels and who doesn't love that.
> 
> So please note that this work is not written to project badly on some tropes, this is just me, writing stories where Stiles takes care of himself because from what I saw and how many time I've seen him get himself out of situations, it is clear he can take care of himself just fine and doesn't always need saving.
> 
> Sorry for the little rant.


End file.
